Letting Go
by Kyoka-BOO
Summary: Fuji just can't seem to let go. Tezuka wants him to. [Written for Livejournal 30 deathfics]


**Fandom: **Prince of Tennis**  
Title: **Letting Go**  
Author/Artist: **MoonlitAffairs (Kyoka)**  
Theme(s): **#2- Passion**  
Characters: **Tezuka Kunimitsu, Yamato Yuudai, Kikumaru Eiji, Fuji Shuusuke, Oishi Shuuichiro, Tezuka Ayana  
**Pairings: **FujixTezuka**  
Rating: **PG**  
Warnings: **Character death**  
Disclaimer/claimer:** Prince of Tennis belongs to the manga-ka, Konomi Takeshi. All characters are otherwise disclaimed. This fiction is written for purely entertainment. It will not be used in any other way. Thank you, Konomi Takeshi!**  
Summary: **Fuji just can't seem to let him go. Tezuka wants him to. Written for Livejournal 30 deathfics  
**Notes: **This story draws heavily off my knowledge of animal health applied in a more human perspective. Please tell me if there are any discrepancies. I'm only acquainted with basic human anatomy as well as disease studies I've done in my health course. This story is also dedicated to my KC cat. He suffered similar conditions. I miss you every day, Buddy.  
**Word Count**: 1, 672

* * *

**Letting Go**

Nobody ever spoke of Tezuka as a passionate person. He was quiet, hardworking, talented—never passionate, though. To most, he seemed like a rock, a stone cold rock that never responded to anything.

His friends would know better, though.

Members of the Seigaku tennis club knew that he was passionate towards tennis. Tezuka gave it his all; Tezuka played to win. Tennis was Tezuka's life, and you couldn't have Tezuka without having the tennis that came along with it. He worked hard to improve his skills, even though he was vastly talented to begin with.

In his first year of junior high, he had been arrogant. Tezuka knew that he was better than his senpais, and he did nothing to hide it. After beating one of the upperclassmen during a match one day, they decided to "teach him a lesson." After all, they couldn't have an arrogant little first year running around the tennis courts. One didn't think that a tennis racquet to the arm would do much, but it was surprising that it did.

Tezuka's left shoulder was never really quite the same after that.

From there Tezuka learned lessons. No, it had not been a proper way to show discipline, and the current captain, Yamato Yuudai, had been infuriated with the students who did it to him. However, he never sought revenge. He gave a lecture on how the older students needed to be a good example towards the younger ones. That day, they weren't allowed to join practice—they were ordered to run laps around the courts until Yamato told them to stop.

Tezuka grew up to be a shadow of Yamato's personality. He was a pacifist; nobody would ever catch him dead in a fight. From then on he continued to set the example that Yamato-buchou had taught him. He built upon the strength that Yamato had given to the club, aiming for nationals.

Tezuka was also passionate towards his friends. He was loyal to them, and though his words were few, he would stand beside them and defend them. Fellow regulars didn't miss that, either. Eiji could recall a time in which some strange foreigners just outside of school were taunting him. Tezuka had simply walked up to Eiji and helped get him out of the situation. It especially helped that he was a friend of one of Tezuka's closest friends, Oishi Shuuichiro.

If Tezuka was there, everything seemed to be fine. Even when a former student at one of the tennis tournaments taunted him, he had been able to shrug it off. Fuji had been with him at that time, and when the student suddenly grabbed hold of his arm, Tezuka simply turned, shrugged the touch off, and gestured for Fuji to follow him in the opposite direction.

That being said, he wasn't somebody to fight back. Tezuka, no matter what the situation, would avoid harming a person, even if he were threatened.

Fuji Shuusuke could have claimed that he was passionate in love. Tezuka may not have seemed like it, but he made a very caring lover, quiet, yet passionate.

That passion had run dry, though, as Tezuka lay on the hospital bed. One could accurately say that he was dying, slowly but surely. The Seishun Gakuen regulars, who made regular visits to see their captain, often times had a strong scent of hospital antiseptic on them. Tezuka in that they didn't come anymore; he said that they needed to aim for nationals, and he didn't want to be of any sort of trouble. Really, it was just to be able to breathe, and think. The small hospital room wasn't that big, especially since he shared it with another terminally ill patient, dying like he was. When they all crowded in there, his thoughts were restricted, and it became frustrating.

There was only so much a person could take, though. That was, the idea of dying. Some panicked and then accepted. Tezuka had yet to accept it. He had never panicked, but deep down, he was scared. He hadn't even told his boyfriend, Fuji, that he was. Tezuka sometimes lay in bed at night while staring up at the ceiling and wondered what it would be like to die.

He was allowed to go home; the doctors were saying that he had about a month to live, and his family was talking about taking him on a special trip. Tezuka politely refused. He never said it, but he was able to feel his heart slowing to a stop and knew he must have only had a few days left. The only justification he could find for the fact that the doctors basically lied to his entire family was that they felt sorry for him.

He invited Fuji to his house over the phone the next day. His mother swore to him that she would be back, kissing his forehead gently. "Kunimitsu, don't deprive yourself of sleep, okay? I'm only going to take a while." Over the length of his illness, Ayana had always tried to be there. She was a very caring mother. His father was at work, and his grandfather had been invited to a dojo in America to do a demonstration on judo as compared to a new martial arts style.

Tezuka had been practically bed-ridden a long time ago. He could limp and everything, but he even needed help getting up to go to the bathroom. In his opinion, it was disgracefully embarrassing. He let Fuji know over the phone that the door was open and that he was allowed in.

Fuji had always been the one to encourage more physical contact than Tezuka did, and Tezuka usually disapproved of being held closely as some others might have enjoyed. Tezuka was a boy, after all, not some clingy girl. Today, however, when Fuji entered the room and drew Tezuka into a tight hug, he didn't protest. His fingers trailed lightly across Fuji's shirtsleeve. When he disturbed the fabric he saw a dark bruise had formed near the wrist. Fuji pulled the material back over his wrist, tugging at it lightly.

"Fuji, what happened?" Fuji knew very well what he was asking, but a lump rose in his throat. Tezuka never worried about himself, always about other people.

"It's nothing. I fell down the stairs last night. I'm just a little bruised. See?" He drew back light-colored bangs to reveal another dark bruise near the side of his head. Tezuka raised an eyebrow. Fuji was _never _clumsy.

"Don't worry about it, Tezuka." The words fell death upon his ears for a minute, because his mind was distorting. He was tired, and slightly short of breath. Unwillingly, his eyelids drooped, and his he fell lightly against Fuji's warm chest.

Fuji could be so sweet at times, and so cruel at others. This must have been one of the times that Fuji had decided to play nice. Tezuka felt a small smile come on to his lips. "You want to know why I fell?" The question wasn't really a question at all. Tezuka didn't even need to nod. Fuji's warm breath brushed Tezuka's ear. Tezuka shifted uncomfortably. "I haven't been sleeping, you know. I've been too worried about you. That's why I was so clumsy." Fuji acted as if the statement was supposed to give comfort. Tezuka didn't think he needed comfort. If he were to die right now, he would have no regrets. Fuji was here. It was surprisingly, for once, better than being alone.

Here it was, acceptance, the saying "I don't care about dying anymore. I only care what happens to the people that come after me."

Tezuka still had his pride; he still had his confidence. It was just… different.

"You know I love you, right?" Fuji's statement was firm, almost demanding.

Tezuka had always said before that love was far too careless for their relationship, and that Fuji should only use it on his future wife. Fuji claimed in a naïve manner that Tezuka would be his husband, but Tezuka pointed it out that it was always possible for his parents to arrange a marriage, and that their relationship, especially at such a young age, was improper. Fuji wondered sometimes if Tezuka was embarrassed by their relationship.

"I'm not ashamed," he murmured. Fuji's eyes flickered wide open. This time, though, they weren't filled with a cruel glance like usually witnessed. No… they were filled with tears. "You shouldn't cry," Tezuka muttered, not opening his eyes while he had his head laid on Fuji's chest. "You're stronger than that." Fuji almost choked at the words.

"Strength has nothing to do with it, Tezuka." He wiped the moisture out of his eyes and placed his thumbs on Tezuka's cheeks. Hazel eyes flickered open, slightly cloudy and hidden behind smudged lenses. Fuji removed Tezuka's glasses and set them on the bedside table.

Tezuka really was a sight. Over the course of his disease, he'd lost weight and strength. Tezuka was a skeleton. His hair was thin and dry, but still as messy as every. What perhaps struck him the most were Tezuka's disease-clouded eyes and his yellowing skin. He was pale, but his gums, fingertips, and underside of the arm were yellowing.

The doctor had called it jaundice, and Fuji remembered it was a telltale sign of a failing liver.

Their kiss was gentle, chaste. Tezuka rarely smiled, but it seemed he'd been doing it a lot today. Fuji pulled Tezuka against his chest. His body felt cooler to the touch—with the disease reaching the very last stages, Tezuka probably wasn't able to maintain an appropriate body temperature. Fuji pulled the blanket up around Tezuka, and they sat in silence for what seemed like forever.

After about an hour or so, Fuji knew that Tezuka had stopped breathing. He couldn't let him go, though, not yet.

Fuji couldn't let go of the most passionate person he'd ever known.

Fuji felt like he would never be able to let go.

"Good bye, Tezuka."


End file.
